


Men at Work

by AgentOHare



Series: Combiner Vores [1]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Gen, Overeating, Stomachache, Vore, hunger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 15:26:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13814025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentOHare/pseuds/AgentOHare
Summary: If you're going to have a group of Constructicons working for you all day long, then the least you can do is let them have their lunch break.





	Men at Work

Hard labor works up an appetite, everybody knew that.  _ Especially  _ the Constructions. 

 

Their jobs mainly consisted of hard manual labor, after all. Shipping resources, erecting buildings at Megatron’s behest, and especially engaging the Autobots in battle, more often than not combined.

 

So it came to no surprise that the Constructions were often hungry. The energy to do all the work they did had to come from somewhere. It was cyclic by now; build shit, get hungry, bitch about being hungry until lunch break, rinse and repeat.

 

Needless to say, the Constructicons were  _ not  _ pleased with Megatron's decision.

 

“But boss! We can't just keep working like this, me and my men need to refuel!”

 

“My decision remains final, Scrapper.”

 

“With all due respect sir, we’re running on  _ fumes. _ ”

 

Megatron leveled the fusion cannon at the Construction leader’s face.

 

“Cease your whining, you meaningless pile of junk parts! I will give you a choice: either you do as I say or you get your heads blasted off. Do I make myself clear?”

 

“Yes sir.” Scrapper begrudged, and trundled back to the work site. His fuel tank let out a disappointed growl. How long has it been again? Better not to think about it.

 

The reactions of other Constructions ranged from disappointment to fury. Bonecrusher raged, and it was all the others could do to prevent him from smashing the work they so carefully prepared. Hook whined about how the hunger pangs threw off his precision, to the annoyance of his cohorts. The others just kept to complaining about how hungry they were.

 

As the Constructions’ foreman, it fell to Scrapper to raise morale.

 

“Hey guys, we got through hunger before. Remember that one recon mission in the wasteland?”

 

“Yeah!” Bonecrusher replied. “Remember when Soundwave up and ate the Autobot prisoner? Man, that was somethin’.”

 

“I agree.” Scrapper recalled. “Soundwave's even  _ scarier  _ now.”

 

“Well I for one would  _ not _ like to reminisce on that mission.” Hook muttered. “I lost my molecular separator there.”

 

“You mean your  _ shrink ray? _ ” Mixmaster corrected. He just got a glare in return.

 

The remembrance session was cut off by the peal of a siren- the proximity alarm.

 

“Autobots incoming from southwest!” The lookout commed.

 

“You heard ‘im guys! Let's go rearrange their faceplates!” Scrapper called, to his teammates’ roaring agreement. 

 

By the time the Constructions reached the breach point, the encounter had gone from a skirmish to a full-blown battle. Bullets rained down as the cannons boomed, making a hellish thunderstorm that all but the strongest fell to. The workers wasted no time in pulling out their guns and contributing to the storm. 

 

The battle went on for what seemed like hours. Bodies fell left and right, and the Autobots were slowly but surely edging in closer. An uninformed onlooker would infer that the Decepticons were losing. However, this was not the case. Megatron merely hadn't used his trump card yet.

 

A simple order was all it took to change the tide of battle.

 

“Constructions! Transform and merge into Devastator!”

 

A cacophony of clicking and shifting metal was the herald of doom for the Autobot troops. For the giant that now stood before them was awake, and ready to fight. 

 

However, something peculiar happened. You see, a combiner’s formation is not merely one of limbs and mind but of innards as well. Mechanisms would shift about and connect to form mega-organs, such as an enlarged, 6-bot spark chamber. The joint where Hook and Long Haul merged had folded inwards and created a chamber within Devastator- a large fuel tank.

 

Devastator was never a very stable gestalt to begin with, only decisively acting on whatever his six CPUs agreed on. Currently, the neural network was sending the commands to  _ fight.  _

 

Suddenly, a new signal was sent. The six hungry Constructicons that composed Devastator were unwittingly sending neural pulses through the gestalt bond that carried a new command:  _ eat. _

 

The hunger that the individual Constructions experienced echoed and compounded into a roaring maelstrom within the gestalt’s core. Devastator cringed as the walls of his barren tank rubbed against each other to find no fuel. The enormous tank churned and groaned angrily, sending painful hunger pangs through the combiner’s body. 

 

Maddened with hunger, Devastator went into an all-out rampage, smashing and crushing everything he could. Autobots and Decepticons fled in every direction to escape the giant’s wrath. The mindless smashing continued until an especially painful hunger pang caused Devastator to double over in agony. The act of combining was a very energy-intensive process, and Devastator had little to begin with. The combiner’s tank roared like a dying lion. His head was light and a strong dizziness took over, threatening to make him pass out. 

 

Devastator needed fuel  _ now. _

 

Within the messy confines of the Construction gestalt bond, a debate was occurring. 

 

_ “Agghhh! It hurts! We've gotta eat somethin’ or we'll keel over!” _

 

_ “Calm down Scavenger, we're all as hungry as you are.” _

 

_ “Well no shit, we're combined.” _

 

_ “The gestalt won't hold much longer!” _

 

_ “Shit, shit, shit…” _

 

_ “Everyone calm down! I have an idea!” _

 

_ “Alright, let's hear it.” _

 

_ “Should we really be listening to Hook…?” _

 

_ “Shaddup.” _

 

_ “Silence! Do any of you recall the little incident with Soundwave and the prisoner?” _

 

_ “You don't mean…” _

 

_ “Oh PIT no!” _

 

_ “I said SILENCE!” _

 

_ “Sorry.” _

 

_ “Devouring an Autobot or two would both get rid of them and send a message to their forces.” _

 

_ “A scare tactic and war atrocity all in one. I think Megatron would approve.” _

 

_ “We all need to agree on something in order for Devastator to act, and right now Hook’s suggestion is our best option. You all may not like it, but we don't really have a better choice. What do you say? Are you in?” _

 

_ “...I guess.” _

 

_ “Yes.” _

 

_ “Affirmative.” _

 

_ “Yeah!” _

 

_ “I don't got another choice, do I?” _

 

_ “That’s the spirit!” _

 

Devastator came back online.

 

_ “Alright boys, it's dinner time!” _

 

Catching an Autobot was easy enough. The nameless sports car screamed and thrashed in the gestalt’s servo, but it was all in vain. So occupied with escape was he that he didn’t notice Devastator licking his lips hungrily, and  _ almost _ didn’t notice the world around him going black.

 

Combatants from all across the battlefield, Autobot and Decepticon alike, watched in unmasked horror as the Autobot was shoveled into the combiner’s mouth. Onlookers watched the mouth close around the poor bot, legs kicking. Inside Devastator’s mouth, the soldier was screaming at the top of his vocalizer and thrashing desperately in hopes of freedom. It was all for naught, however. Once the voices in Devastator's head agreed to do so, the gestalt tilted his head back and began to swallow. Desperate to stay inside the mouth, the Autobot clung to one of the back dentae, but the massive glossa he laid on bucked and threw him back into the intake. A simple flick of the glossa sealed the Autobot’s fate as he was dragged into the esophagus. The poor bot was nearly crushed by the pulsations of the tube on his descent.

 

As the Autobot dropped into his rumbling fuel tank, Devastator was looking for another victim. Even before he swallowed he knew that one wouldn't be enough to satisfy him. Eventually, he singled out a larger military frame, a jeep of some kind. A massive hand reached out and grabbed it, rewarded with shrieks of horror. The combiner's jaws opened wide for the second course, more leadlike in flavor. Devastator drooled as he tasted the jeep all over. He  _ loved  _ lead.

 

The flavor had been licked away all too soon to Devastator's disappointment. Oh well. He tossed his head back with a thick gulp, and the ground troops watched as a bigger bulge traveled down the giant’s throat. The jeep was a tight squeeze in the esophagus, so he didn't reach the stomach as quickly as the sports car did. When the jeep did plunk into the fuel tank, Devastator could feel it. He absently rubbed his belly, feeling the thrashing Autobots within. He wasn't hungry anymore, but the combiner wondered if he could fit more inside.

 

Devastator's optics fell on another Autobot- a big green truck, modelocked by an injury. Could he do it? Could he possibly wolf down an entire _ truck? _

 

Devastator was never very intelligent, so of  _ course  _ he tried.

 

The truck was caught by an enormous hand and brought to the giant’s face. Devastator opened as wide as he could and shoved him in. Unluckily for Devastator, the trailer was still attached, but he was too proud to remove it. His tank could handle some measly sheet metal. 

 

Except the trailer wasn't empty. It was filled completely with a shipment of energon cubes.

 

Holding the truck by the trailer, Devastator began swallowing. The truck cab was a box, so it was difficult to get into the throat. He straightened out and tilted his head all the way back so it was a straight drop down the combiner's gullet. After some more hard swallows and some fumbling around, the cab was inside the throat and dropping slowly. From here, it was like swallowing a brick. The throat had to expand a bit more to accommodate the wheels, but the truck was steadily being swallowed. It was a bit like watching a sword swallower. 

 

Once he was past the cab, Devastator was faced with the task of swallowing the trailer. His throat was already used to the cab, so he just had to stretch it a  _ bit  _ more. Unfortunately, it wasn't easily cooperating. No matter how hard he swallowed the trailer wouldn't budge. Suddenly, Devastator had an idea. Grabbing the trailer, he twisted it so it laid on its side. This made it manageable, and soon enough Devastator closed his mouth and gulped down the back of the trailer, sending the biggest neck bulge the enemy had ever seen slowly sliding down. It was all involuntary from there. Devastator could feel the truck sinking down in his chest, and his five sparks fluttered with pride. He had conquered the truck! 

 

The cab was squeezed through the comparatively tiny entrance to the combiner's crowded stomach. It inched down and the two occupants scrambled aside so they wouldn't be crushed. Eventually, the truck fell out and landed in the pit of the fuel tank with a very heavy thud, trailer doors opening and releasing their payload. As it entered, the giant felt his abdomen expand to the point where it stretched uncomfortably.

 

Devastator felt as though he’d swallowed a boulder. The truck shouldn't have felt that heavy… Unless the trailer was full. The combiner cursed. That was the Autobots’ energon shipment, he realized as his overfull belly lurched. It felt like a cannonball. He rubbed the rocklike bulge, attempting to soothe the discomfort. There was no doubt about it. He  _ definitely  _ overate. 

 

“Oogh…” Devastator looked like he was gonna be sick, but he couldn't possibly bring all that metal back up. The Autobots took their chance.

 

“He's down! Cut him open.”

 

Devastator swung a fist at the oncoming Autobots. He scoffed at their train of thought. A little indigestion wasn't enough to stop him from fighting! The drone of jet engines signaled the arrival of air support on the Autobot side. Planes circled the giant and began shooting at him. They zipped near his face to taunt him as he tried to knock them out of the sky. Devastator gave a fearsome roar…

 

...and a particularly hapless pilot flew right into his mouth lodging the nosecone into the giant’s throat. Devastator choked. He tried to spit it out but the jet’s sputtering thrusters were driving its aerodynamic form in deeper. Everybody was watching him, so Devastator couldn't show weakness of any kind. He  _ had  _ to finish the jet.

 

Swallowing the jet was worlds easier than the truck. The only reason it was going down so slowly was because Devastator was tired of eating. The wings were easy to work around compared to the trailer. Soon, the jet was almost completely in the throat, Devastator swallowing as hard as he could. His stomach balked, and he gagged. He really didn't want to fill his tank any more but he  _ had  _ to. Summoning all of his willpower, he choked down the jet. Compared to the truck, it reached his tank in no time flat.

 

The jet was forced into the combiner's overfull gut,  _ juuuust _ managing to squeeze in between the truck and the sports car. The overloaded organ was well past maximum capacity; it was painfully stretched and sensitive. This resulted in a _ bad  _ belly ache for the giant. All four Autobots inside Devastator thrashed desperately, making him feel even sicker. 

 

Outside, the battle had waned and the Autobots had regretfully retreated. The combiner decided to lie down in the former battlefield. His abdomen was utterly swollen with his enormous meal, and was currently being rubbed with two hands in hopes of releasing some of the pressure. It worked, and Devastator let out a loud, deep belch.

 

That made him feel a  _ little _ better. Then Megatron came.

 

“Devastator!”

 

Said combiner turned his head with a groan.

 

“Though I approve of this new…  _ tactic _ ... of yours, I need to know why in the Allspark you decided it was a good idea.”

 

Devastator’s stomach decided to turn, shifting its squirming contents. This forced air to the top of the fuel tank, and-

 

**_“BRRRRRRRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUP!”_ **

 

-It was released in the form of a lengthy burp. Megatron made a face.

 

“Answer me.”

 

“Hungry.” Devastator said simply, still nursing his belly. It was rumbling as if an earthquake had gone off inside. The stomach flipped and churned about, hard at work digesting the monstrous meal. Inside the combiner, digestive solvent was pouring in from pinhole valves on the tank’s walls, sizzling on contact with the Autobots and hastening their attacks on the organ. Muffled screams of fear and agony could be heard from Devastator's gut amongst the grinding and gurgles, to Megatron's twisted delight.

 

“Well Devastator, I must say that you were the last person I’d expect to finally find a use for those accursed Autobots.” Megatron remarked. “Now separate.”

 

“Can't.” Devastator grunted.

 

Megatron growled lowly, in no mood for inconvenience. “Why?” 

 

“Digestion’s not done.”

 

“Oh.” That made sense, actually. Megatron would rather that Devastator's meal contribute to the warrior’s body than get released and cause more trouble. “Carry on.”

 

And so Devastator remained in the field, belly noisily chugging away at the enormous mass inside. By this time, enough digestive solvent had been secreted for digestion to truly kick in. To the combiner’s relief, the four Autobots in his tank were beginning to still.

 

…

 

A good day or two later, Devastator was still combined. The massive gut had shrunk down to normal, though the giant still felt full. The fuel inside of him had liquefied, resulting in a pain-free but sloshy tank. Over the passing hours Devastator's stomach had surmounted the challenging feast and converted it into its most basic components for use in the construction team’s bodies.

 

Devastator thought that now would be a good time to dismantle. Being combined for so long was tiring anyway. With a chorus of scraping and clicks, the six Constructicons landed on the ground.

 

To the surprise of everybody, the construction team sported swollen bellies of their own. Indeed, the liquified contents of Devastator's tank were distributed among the six, filling their own tanks up past their limit. They clutched their too-full stomachs, groaning with discomfort.

 

“Hey everyone, look at the bright side.” Scrapper said. “At least we won't have to worry about hunger for a while.”

 

“Frag you.” Bonecrusher groaned.

 

As the Constructicons skulked off, a certain red Seeker remained watching from an overhang, optics narrowed in thought.

 

“Hm… Those groundpounding buffoons have given me an idea. I wonder how hungry a combiner team has to get in order to put Megatron on the menu?”


End file.
